Page 64 of Kiss of a Hellish Prince

From where I crouched, I could see the front glass window; people were walking from their cars to the stores and back. I was so close.

I rounded another corner, about to make a break for it. The other demon, one I hadn’t seen before, stepped out of the office. He was tall and lanky, wearing dirty jeans and a tank top that might have at one point been white. It was splattered with dirt and blood and god only knows what else.

His eyes met mine, and he smirked, a grotesque twisting of his lips that showed his sharp teeth. Teeth so yellow and rotting, they hinted at years of smoking, drug abuse, and neglect.

I looked back at the door, and I sprinted towards it with everything I had. He jumped over the front counter, knocking down piles of books waiting to be catalogued.

My fingers brushed against the cold metal of the door handle before he yanked me away from it and threw me to the ground.

“I got her, boss,” he called to the back of the store.

“Good job, Hank. Drag her out back to the truck,” Prison Tat called. His voice sounded off, like he was probably still trying to control the stream of blood.

“You think you're pretty smart, huh?” Hank said, looking down at me. “Well, you better figure real quick you ain’t going anywhere. So might want to think about how much easier this’ll be if you behave and come along quiet-like.”

His voice was high-pitched and nasally with an accent that was a little Southern and a lot of something I couldn’t place.

“Fuck you,” I spat.

“Darlin’, you better watch that purty mouth, or I will give it something better to do.” He reached down to grab my arm.

I lashed out with my feet again. This time, I hooked him behind his knee, sending him to the ground hard. His head smacked into the bottom of a bookshelf.

I got up and ran as fast as I could back into the shelves.

Hank hauled himself up and followed me, a little slower and unsteady on his feet after the blow to his head. I knew that would wear off soon. I had to get out of here.

Both men lumbered towards me, so I ducked into the kids’ section. Unfortunately, the shelves were much shorter and didn’t give the same cover, so I had to crawl to stay hidden. But unlike the other shelves, these were not in simple rows. We had arranged for the kids’ section to be a labyrinth. And it let out just two rows away from the front door.

Crawling on my hands and knees, I worked my way through the winding shelves. Careful to not make a sound, I could hear Hank and Prison Tat bitching while looking for me. They made a racket knocking over shelves and displays while trying to find me.

I was definitely getting fired for this.

Finally, I make it to the end of the labyrinth, and the store went silent.

I couldn’t tell exactly where my assailants were, which made the skin on the back of my neck prickle with unease, but I could see the door again. My safety was in sight, literally.

I just had to make it past the New and Hot section. Then I would be home free.

I stood up to a low crouch and started moving towards the door when a bulking figure stepped directly into my path. Prison Tat was blocking my escape, his upper lip covered in dried blood and his fangs extending when he saw me.

I turned to run back the other way when Hank came around the corner, blocking that entrance.

They’d trapped me.

The two men started closing in. I had nowhere to run, so I did the only thing I could think of. I tried to run past Prison Tat.

I ducked down low and attempted to evade him in the narrow aisle. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around my throat, pressing hard as he whipped me back and threw me to the ground.

I fell, hitting my temple into the hard wooden edge of the shelf. Pain exploded behind my eyes. A bright flash of white clouded my vision for several moments before my vision swam back into focus.

Before I could really regain all my senses, Prison Tat grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to my feet. I gripped his wrist, trying to get him to let go, and swung out wildly with my feet. His long arms held me out far enough that my kicks failed to connect with anything.

“I am going to enjoy teaching you some fucking manners,” he snarled in my face.

I looked at him, then spat in his face.

He backhanded me across the cheek hard enough my ears rang and I tasted blood. My cheek throbbed where he’d hit me, but it was better than the grip he had on my hair.

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